#like ‘hey. look’ *stabs needle in eyebrow*

[dollsuguru]

should bestie!sukuna’s job be pastry chef or butcher or bookstore owner or piercer or

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Yes, yes, we love a bit of hero whump, though may I suggest if it is not too much.... some villain whump? 👀

-💜

Most of the time, the villain could deal with injuries perfectly. In fact, they'd been in med school for several years and had perfected stitching up nearly every inch of their own body. Usually, they wouldn't accept help under any circumstances.

Partly because it felt wrong to bother someone else with their troubles, partly because they were terrified of other people's (non-existing) skills. They couldn't risk it.

But they assumed being placed under house arrest with the hero watching them wasn't exactly usual.

It happened in the middle of a card game between the two of them. A week ago, they would have never agreed to such silly things but after a few days, they had realised there wasn't much to do. No internet connection. No smartphone, no TV. Just this house and a hyperactive hero that couldn't sit still.

Once a week they got to call their parents.

In the exact moment as they put another card onto the stack, the villain felt the stitches open one by one. At first, they simply denied it, made themselves think that it wasn't that bad. They were simply mistaken; it was surely just the usual pain and they were exaggerating.

But the pain increased and they could feel the wetness of the blood trickle down their back. A week ago, before the hero had captured them, they'd been in a pretty rough shape. A swollen face, several nasty bruises and this one stab wound that kept reopening. And stitching their own back? That was more than a little challenge. They hated it, they loathed it.

"I think I have to use the washroom," they said.

"Oh, really? Now that you're losing, huh?" The hero raised an eyebrow. They took these games a little too serious. "Do you seriously expect me to go easy on you because I am the hero? I've been playing this game for years. I have mastered it and I will destroy you, no matter what it takes. No matter what you try, I will-"

"Okay, you win, oh almighty hero." They threw their cards onto the table. It was getting worse. They didn't even know if they could stand up without tripping. Their vision blurred. Everything seemed to turn upside down.

"'Hey, that's not how this works," the hero said. "You can't just give up like that. I was supposed to defeat you."

"M-hm." The villain stood up and for a second, they really thought they would pass out. They took in a deep breath.

"Wait, are you okay?"

"Hm?" The villain didn't find the hero's eyes right away and they could feel their own body sway. God, they needed painkillers, rubbing alcohol, thread, needle... "Yeah, be right back."

They walked past the hero, always in search for something to hold onto but they didn't come very far.

"Oh my god." The hero sounded a little too concerned. The villain thought themselves to be quite a good actor and they weren't even swaying that much. "What the...?"

The hero was next to them in seconds, their hand on the villain's arm. They held onto them.

"What did you do...?"

"What? Nothing, I...oh fuck..." Involuntarily, they grabbed the hero a little too harshly when they felt the wound pulsating.

"Your entire shirt is drenched in blood!" The hero's gaze had hardened and a more concentrated look had replaced their playful smile.

"I got it, it's alright," the villain mumbled. They let go of the hero to drag themselves to the bathroom but the hero had other plans.

"Lay down on the couch," they said.

"You're not my boss," the villain argued. Sometimes, they hated themselves for their stubborness but being nursed by the hero sounded like a greater punishment than even house arrest. Being vulnerable around them, letting someone else take care of them...it sounded like actual hell.

"Please," the hero said. They took the villain's hand and the villain was so confused by this gentle approach that they almost forgot about the pain. They were sure no one else would ever beg to take care of them. When they remembered how violent their capture had been and how many heroes had punched them, they got goosebumps.

They would never tell anyone but they were having nightmares about their fights. Anxiety was eating them up. So, they were almost glad that the hero was observing them at their home.

"It's fine, really," the villain mumbled. "I got it."

"You are bleeding out. You're not fine. Sit down." More or less of their own volition, the villain eventually sat down on the couch. "I'll take your shirt off now, alright?"

The villain's hand was still in theirs.

"Okay," the villain agreed. Their breath hitched and they prepared themselves for the inevitable pain that would follow. However, the hero wasn't rough with them.

"Isn't that from last week?" the hero asked while they pulled the bloody shirt over the villain's head.

"Yeah."

"They gave me an entire protocol about your injuries. There wasn't anything about a stab wound. Just your ankle and your face."

The villain smiled tiredly. "Sounds about right."

It wasn't a big secret that the agency preferred to be silent on how exactly they caught their villains.

Against the villain's burning back, the hero's cold fingers felt heavenly. They put their palm against the villain's skin and pushed them a little forward to see the injury better.

"Did you stitch that yourself?"

"I tried, yeah."

"It looks pretty good," the hero said. "Just give me a second, I will grab everything."

The hero stood up and left for the bathroom.

And the villain sat there, perplexed. When had they ever allowed someone else to even touch them? When had they ever undressed in front of someone else?

What was happening? Were they really this desperate loser who needed comfort that bad?

The villain stared at their hands, their trembling hands. There was no way they could stitch any wound like this, not even if it was on their thigh.

It was more than frustrating, more than a little annoying.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Allergies maybe?" the hero asked. The villain turned around and was surprised to see the hero with all the things they would have grabbed too. There were even painkillers and a glass of water in their hand. The villain shook their head. "Alright. Take this."

All of it was a little...too good to be true. What the hero asked seemed reasonable and their actions were too. The villain swallowed the painkillers and watched as the hero sat on the couch. They pressed a clean towel against the villain's wound and despite their carefulness, the villain hissed.

"Your pain from one to ten? How bad is it?"

"I..." the villain realised they had never thought about it. Usually when they tended to their own wounds they were like a machine, following instructions they had burnt into their system a long time ago. It didn't matter if it burnt or hurt, as long as the wound was closed. But the hero was actually communicating, they were careful and gentle. "...maybe a three?"

"Are you sure?"

"Okay, it's a five." The hero seemed to be another person completely, their jokes and their cheery manner were long gone, yet they were friendly and soft. Apparently, this was the professional side of the hero.

"Do you think it was a clean knife? Your wound doesn't seem to be infected."

"It should have been. Heroes clean their knives regularly, don't they?" For a moment, the hero was quiet and the villain wasn't sure if they had said the wrong thing. They cleared their throat. "Uhm, I can also stitch the wound, if you..."

"No, it's okay. It looks pretty clean, so I'm not going to put any alcohol on it. Don't want to damage your tissue." Woah. The villain had never really cared about that. They'd just drench their wounds in alcohol to kill any infection causing thing, even if that damaged their tissue. "One more thing before I start stitching."

"Yeah?"

"Just out of curiosity. Do you know whom of my colleagues did this to you?"

The villain's stomach tingled. The hero was probably not asking out of pure curiosity.

[maivolpe]

as long as you’re with me (you’ll be just fine)

summary: you neglect an injury to be able to see your boyfriend. he, however, sees right through your charade.

a/n: my first "full" one-shot! this is a reminder to take care of yourselves or else. i hope you enjoy ♡

･｡ﾟ: ∘◦☾◦∘｡ﾟ.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader cw: descriptions of blood, stitches, wounds, needles, bucky dog-earing a book wc: 1.5k

the lights were dimmed when you arrived home, battered and bruised. you almost sank to your knees upon entrance, the exhaustion from the day coursing through your body. you dropped your backpack just inside the door with a resounding thud. you'd deal with it later.

your suit still stuck to your skin unpleasantly, the slick feeling of blood still coating your leg. it had taken a few minutes to even realize you had been stabbed, but that was a small mercy. it was a sharp pain like you'd never felt before, and the heat of it all tortured you through the rest of the fight. you had lost the feeling, for a few fleeting seconds, thanks to adrenaline, but now it was back. and worse than before, as your stupid suit rubbed against the wound.

shower, was the plan. shower everything off, bandage it up, and pretend like nothing happened. then you would get to spend the time with bucky that you missed on the mission.

"baby?"

his voice echoed softly across the room, and you squinted before realizing that bucky was tucked under a pile of blankets on the couch. only his eyes, his nose, and his battered copy of the hobbit showed. you laughed breathily, slowly making your way across the room to him. "hey, lover."

he dog-eared his page, causing you to wince internally, and struggled out of the blankets he had trapped himself in. his eyes flitted over your face, taking in your features. the small crease in your forehead, the bags under your eyes. the little tilt to your head, because... you were favoring one leg over the other. busted.

"where are you hurt?" he asked, though he already knew.

you groaned, defeated, and displayed your left leg in front of him. though your suit was still on, there was a sickening stain of blood collecting where you'd quickly wrapped it up and tied it off before leaving the compound.

"it's really not a big deal, doesn't hurt that badly. don't worry about me!"

bucky cocked an eyebrow at you, and reached for your leg. he gently bent your shin backwards, eliciting a hiss of pain from your lips.

"sure, princess. not that bad. sit down."

he headed off to the bathroom to fetch the kit, and you let yourself slowly sink onto the couch.

"if it was bad they wouldn't have let you leave," he called from the other room. "knife wound?"

"yeah," you answered. "i kind of... hid it? but i think they knew you were gonna patch me up regardless."

bucky walked back into the room, his bare feet grazing the carpet. "i'm nothing to you but a nurse."

you laughed and leaned forwards, trapping his lips in a soft kiss. it tasted like heaven after a long day of granola bars and the metallic tang of your own blood. but then again, it always tasted like heaven.

"hottest nurse i ever met."

he chuckled, tying his hair up to keep it out of his eyes and squatting down to see your thigh in the dim lighting. "don't tell sharon that."

he slowly untied the cloth you'd had tied just above your knee, muttering "crude" before letting it fall to the floor. while it wasn't completely soaked through with blood, you still looked away from it, instead watching bucky's jaw set as he pulled out a pair of scissors.

"'m just gonna cut your suit here," he assured. "you've got like fifty of 'em anyways."

you nodded your assent, laying back on the cushions as you heard the tear of fabric. he hissed upon seeing the wound, a three- or four-inch gash just above your knee. it was probably three-quarters of an inch deep, he figured. dried crimson covered every available inch of skin. if it had happened to himself, he wouldn't have cared. he had plenty of scars, and the serum would help to heal it fast enough that it didn't matter.

but to his girl?

he was filled with a rage he hadn't felt since the forties, when steve would show up bloodied and bruised, acting as unaffected as you were right now. he'd been against you going on missions in the first place - while he knew you were capable, he couldn't protect you in the field. he wanted, needed to protect you. but he knew the best way to do that would be to help now, to clean you up, and so he did.

"how're you feeling, pretty girl?" he asked, moving to the faucet in the kitchen. he ran the water over a clean cloth, never taking his eyes off of the couch where you lay.

you pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes, sighing. "'m a little dizzy. stitches?"

"mm-hmm."

"ugh."

you closed your eyes - just for a minute - and it felt like the couch would swallow you up, or you would sink right through the cushions. it was quiet, only the ticking of the clock and the hum of the tacky lamp that bucky loved to read by filling the air. they soon faded, and you didn't question why. there was silence for a moment, and the burning in your leg subsided until it was just a dull ache.

your eyes flickered open in surprise at a cool pressure on your lips, parting them just a bit when you realized bucky was holding a glass to your mouth. it felt cool and wonderful trickling down your throat, and before you knew it, the cup was empty and he was pulling it away. he made up for it with the loving look he gave you, though it was tinged with a bit of sadness. it could've just been the shadows, the way the light fell on him, but you knew better.

"hang in there for me, doll," he murmured, sitting back down and pressing the wet cloth to your skin. the sting of the fabric against the gash was more than enough to bring you back down to earth. you groaned, and bucky nodded in sympathy.

"almost done."

he was finished in no time, though it felt like forever, and soon wielded the needle and nylon that you so dreaded.

“here, baby, i got you.” he tucked the end of one of his blankets into your mouth, letting you bite down on it. "ready?"

you nodded, giving him a weak thumbs up. ready as you'd ever be, you supposed.

he went in as quickly as he could, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he slammed out stitch after stitch. you gritted your teeth, your breath hitching. it stung so badly. but it was done as fast as it had begun, and the needle clattered to the ground.

bucky pulled himself onto the couch next to you, his hands moving a million miles a minute. he gently took the fabric from your teeth, laying the blanket softly over your legs, hiding the stitches from view. you held your trembling hands out to him, and they were swallowed up in an instant, deft fingers tracing your veins.

“good job, darling, that was amazing,” he murmured, pressing a tentative kiss to your mouth. your lip quivered and he pulled away quickly, cautious eyes searching for any kind of pain he might’ve caused.

“hey, what’s wrong?”

tears gathered at your waterline, and you sniffled before choking out, “you treat me so well.”

he smiled, but knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. “you’ve been stabbed. do you think i wouldn't help you?”

“no i know you'll always help, but… i don't think i deserve it. i didn’t do amazing. it hurt.”

he laughed. “pretty girl, when i had to sew myself up for the first time, i was cussin’ and screamin’ everywhere. you didn’t even make a single sound.”

"well then i shouldn't have gotten stabbed," you grumbled.

he pulled you into his arms. “you got through the fight, first of all, and that's a win in my book. and on top of that, you toughed it out just to come see me, dove. which you shouldn’t have, that was stupid and reckless, but the point here is that you're strong. even stronger than me, i think."

you only hummed, moving your head to rest on his shoulder. it felt as though all of your energy had evaporated from your body, and would float away through an open window somewhere. the rumble of bucky's voice deliberately softened, proving your exhaustion did not go unnoticed.

“want me to sleep on the couch with you tonight?”

you hummed, leaning forward to kiss his neck as your way of saying yes. he chuckled again, the sweet melody of his laughter bringing a ghost of a smile to your tired face. you couldn't see his, but you knew he was grinning.

“c’n you read to me?”

bucky reached for his book, flipping to the dog-eared page. "i thought you'd never ask, dove."

"you know, one 'f these days 'm gonna get tired of hearing about dwarves."

"you won't," he said confidently. "you love me too much."

you snorted, but settled in, tucking your uninjured leg close to your body. bucky tightened his grip around you, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. he cleared his throat dramatically, coaxing another smile from your features.

“bilbo rushed along the passage, very angry, and altogether bewildered and bewuthered…”

･｡ﾟ: ∘◦☾◦∘｡ﾟ.

ko-fi ♡

[aewinty]

The way you hurt me

Wednesday Addams x fem reader

Playlist

Part 2

When Wednesday entered her dorm, back ridged, stiff steps, you almost immediately knew something was on her mind. She situated herself harshly on her seat, eyes never meeting yours once. The slight crinkle of her eyebrows and clench of your girlfriend’s teeth served as a reminder that you shouldn’t disturb her. A reminder that you ignored. You bookmarked the book you were reading, setting it down on her bed before getting up.

You could physically feel Wednesday tense when you set your hand on her left shoulder, looking over at what she was writing with her typewriter.

“You should get some rest.” You murmured, clearly seeing the dark circles under her eyes.

“No. I don’t need any.” Wednesday responded almost instantaneously.

“How about you slow down for today so you can sleep, then you can start fresh tomorrow early in the morning?” You said, attempting to reason with her.

Her eyebrows furrowed and she blankly stared at the keys on the typewriter for a quick second before ignoring you and returning back to typing.

You sighed, stroking her clothed back and began “I know you want to clear up the case, but-“

The sharp sound of her wooden chair against the floor brought you back. You looked up to see Wednesday striding towards the exit of her dorm room. When Wednesday opened the door, she came face to face with none other than Enid Sinclair.

“Hey! Wednesday! Y/n! I was just looking for you where are you headed?” She exclaimed, clasping her hands together, clearly not noticing the tension present in the room.

“I’m leaving for the library, as I obviously can not have any personal time to myself since someone pronounced themselves as an underlying annoyance to me.” Wednesday snarled, hinting the latter was you.

Enid audibly gasped, her eyes flitting towards you, attempting to assess your reaction.

You were stunned to say the least. You had thought of yourself to be a burden to Wednesday to some extent, but hearing her flatly say it out was like a sharp needle being stuck into your stomach.

“I was just trying to help?” You sputtered once you regained your voice.

Wednesday turned to face you. Her fists clenched and unclenched, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared straight at you.

“Helping me does NOT include presenting yourself as a disturbance to my work. Instead, you can assist me by taking your leave, as you are not much of a HELP in this circumstance.”

The blood rushed to your head, but only one thought was on your mind: to fire back at her.

“If HELPING you does not include me caring for your HEALTH, how you are FEELING, then what is it? Because last time I-“

You were interrupted once again. “IF YOU KNOW ME SO WELL, YOU SHOULD KNOW TO STOP INTERFERING WITH MY ACTIVITIES BECAUSE EVERY TIME YOU DO, I JUST GET MORE IRRITATED.”

“Then I’m sorry I’m such a disturbance to your work. If you just told me that, then I would’ve happily obliged.”

“Well maybe you should just leave now. You ARENT providing any help right now and I suspect you won’t be much in the future either.” She spat out. “Honestly Y/n I’m tired of you. You act as if you know the best for me. Hence, I have a word for you. You DON’T. I don’t appreciate how it couldn’t get through to you. I don’t NEED your help. In fact, the most help you could offer would be for you to just GO.”

Each word stated was like a metal stake stabbing you repeatedly in the abdomen. The blood rushed to your cheeks and your heartbeat resounded as the only thing distracting you.

Wednesday’s face was flush red and her chest heaved up and down rapidly as she breathed heavily.

She intensely stared back into your eyes, full of unshed tears, finding it to be a mixture of anger, despair, but mostly hurt. Wednesday softened for a bit but snapped right back when you started walking towards her.

You passed by Enid who shot you a look wordlessly inquired ‘You okay?’ In which you nodded yes.

The door closed with a thud and Wednesday could faintly hear your footsteps getting fainter as you descended the hall.

After a few minutes of silence, Enid started- “Wednesday why would you say that to Y/n? She’s your girlfriend of course she would care about you.”

Wednesday didn’t respond, instead choosing to sit back at her desk to finish her writing. Enid sighed before grabbing her coat and heading out presumably to catch up with you. In the spur of the moment Wednesday honestly couldn’t care unless both of you were out of her hair.

Hours passed and Enid had not yet returned to her and Wednesday’s dorm. Wednesday could not bring herself to reach out to you, feeling as if her pride came first in this situation. The moment didn’t last long when she finished brushing her teeth and changing her outfit to a more fitting one to sleep. Wednesday moved towards her bed only to find it tousled from before with your book still sitting firmly on it. Her eyes burned holes into your book, dissociating herself while she thought of the events that happened throughout today. Bile surfaced to her throat when she remembered the look you gave her before leaving the room.

Wednesday curled up into her sheets, eager to swallow the regret she had for you down. When she reached up to place your book on her nightstand, that was when she really knew she messed up. On her dresser sat a note with a container of assorted fruits saying:

Don’t stay up too late and don’t forget to eat!! I snuck these out of the cafeteria for you incase you get hungry.

Eat well!!

Love you

-Y/n

A/n

Hey first post yayy

Honestly I don’t know what I’m doing I just did this impulsively at 03:30 in the morning, but I hope this is alright for you guys. I have a few ideas for part 2, but feel free to comment any improvements I can make in my writing. Tbf, I’m only writing this to prepare for my SAT essay lmaoo

But yea i also don’t know how to make a master list so someone help me out there - and a tag list whats that 💀💀 also how do I add my playlist into a redirect link? This gigantic Spotify thing isn’t cutting it;;

Again thank you everyone for reading have a nice day !!

[currentlyfckingurmom]

Little Sun

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: mentions of abuse, alcohol, nightmares, kissing

2.2k words

NEW YORK, 2012

You had no idea what these things were, but there was an endless stream of them pouring from a giant hole in the sky and you were doing everything in your power to stop them. As soon as you killed one, another would attack. After hours of fighting, your body was worn down and you were exhausted.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a blur of red. A woman was being tackled by one of the giant aliens. Using all of her strength to keep her attacker at bay, she failed to notice the other coming up behind her. Before you could think twice, you sprinted as fast as you could, sliding between the alien’s blade and the woman’s body. 

You felt the sharp, cool metal pierce the skin of your stomach. Two gunshots rang out, signaling the aliens’ death as you looked down at the red oozing from your stomach. Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized that you weren’t healing like you should. I must’ve exhausted my powers, you thought.

“Who are you?” the woman asked, continuing to fight the onslaught of aliens.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you breathed, extending your hand for a handshake. She lifted a brow at you and gave you a onceover.

“I’m Natasha. That wound looks pretty bad, there Y/N. How are you feeling?” “Like I just got stabbed by an alien,” you grunted out as you shoved a fist through an alien flying at you, tearing out his throat. “I’ve been worse, though.”

Your head whipped to the side at the sound of a kid screaming, and before the redhead knew it, you were off. Gone and out of sight.

Turning the corner of a building, you found the honey hole. There were hundreds of aliens crowding the street, tearing everything apart. “Well this might end badly,” you mumbled to yourself. The aliens turned to you, screeching and charging. “Oh yeah definitely gonna end badly.” 

Bracing for impact, you were quickly surrounded by aliens as you motioned for a little boy and his mother to run away. You took the aliens down quickly, but there were just too many. You felt claws tearing into your side as you kicked one of them away. 

After what felt like days, you were surrounded by countless dead bodies, wheezing heavily from the strain on your body. Your powers weren’t healing you due to the exhaustion, but they were keeping you alive.

Trudging through the lifeless pile of aliens, you plopped down on a curb against a street light. “Motherfucker, that hurt,” you mutter. 

And then it all went black.

⧗

A steady beeping slowly seeped into your senses. The stiff sheets were cool on your legs. You could feel a needle in your arm, pumping something unknown into your veins. Your breath weakened as you began to panic. The odor of sanitizer flooded your nostrils. No, no, no, I can’t be back here. They’re gonna kill me. I can’t be back here.

Jolting upright in the bed, you scrambled to rip the IV out of your arm. You ripped the monitor off your chest and jumped out of the bed, searching for something to use as a weapon. An alarm began to blare and your heart jumped into your throat as you took off down the white hall. A group of people rounded the corner, and you stopped dead in your tracks, prepared to fight.

“Who are you? Where am I?” You demanded.

“Hey, look, take it easy–” a tall blonde man started.

“Who are you?” You yelled again.

“We’re the Avengers. You’re at our tower,” a brunette man said.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s okay. You’re safe,” a raspy voice said from behind you. You hadn't even heard her coming.

“Natasha?” Your shoulders relaxed slightly at the sight of the redhead.

“You were pretty banged up. We found you passed out on the street and brought you back here to heal up. Figured you were safer here than in a hospital where they’d discover your…abilities.”

“Right, okay. So you guys…aren’t….” you trailed off before changing your words. “You said you’re the Avengers? What’s that?”

“We’re a ragtag team of people trying to do something good,” the blonde man from before said.

“And our boss really wants to speak to you,” Natasha smirked.

TWO YEARS LATER

Natasha walked into the kitchen for a glass of water, surprised to see you there. You were sitting at the counter, nursing a glass of whiskey. She couldn’t help but notice the slump in your shoulders and circles under your eyes that had been haunting you lately.

“Detka, everything okay?” She spoke softly, but you still jumped at the sound.

“Yeah,” you tried to laugh. “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep.” She sat on the stool next to you, watching you closely as you avoided eye contact and took another sip of Crown.

“I know when you’re lying to me, Y/N. Something’s clearly wrong. But I won’t make you talk to me if you aren’t comfortable.”

“I’m sorry, Nat. I just…I just have nightmares sometimes,” you whispered.

“About your past?” She asked the question genuinely, but was hoping to get more of an insight into your past. She had looked into you when you first met, of course, but there were only files up until you turned sixteen. After that, you were a ghost.

“Yeah, something like that,” you smiled bitterly. Natasha moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your eye, but you flinched away. In the two years of friendship, never had you done that. You almost looked ashamed, she thought.

“Solnishko, what’s going on with you lately?” A tear fell silently down your face but you didn’t bother to wipe it away.

“I don’t know how much you know about me. I’m guessing there’s not much on record after the age of sixteen. But I grew up under pretty shitty circumstances. My dad was a prick. He’d beat on my mom until she couldn’t walk, and then she’d drink away the pain. At first she tried to protect me, but eventually she gave up and left. I wanna hate her for it but I can’t bring myself to.” You sniffled. “My dad would bring me down to the basement and kick the living shit out of me. He’d whip me with his cane until I couldn’t move, and then he’d lock me down there for hours. Sometimes days. So, that sucked,” you choked on a bitter laugh. “And then I was kidnapped and brought to God-knows-where.”

“Y/N…” Natasha hummed, tentatively reaching out. She breathed a sigh of relief when you took her hand.

“I’ve been through so much shit. I was tortured and experimented on for two years, but…I always have nightmares about him. Even the nightmares of the HYDRA facility, he’s there.”

Natasha took a mental note that you were held in a HYDRA facility, and that’s where you got your powers. But she tucked that away so she could focus on you.

“Look at me, detka,” she mumbled, turning your head to face her. “You are so much stronger than him, okay? And I don’t mean the super strength. You’re gonna be okay. I don’t know if this pain will go away or if it will always hang over you, but I can promise that I will be here by your side no matter what. Forever and always.”

“I’m so fucked up, Nat. I don't belong here. I’m not a hero,” you whimpered.

“You couldn’t be more wrong. You are the greatest person I’ve met, and despite the shit you’ve been through, you still put your life on the line to help other people. That doesn’t mean nothing. You might be fucked up, but I am too. All of us are. You belong here. You belong right here next to me, okay?”

You tried not to dwell on that last part. “Okay. I’m sorry, Nat. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” You pulled back and wiped the tears away, and Natasha only wished to have you closer again.

“Don't apologize for feeling, Y/N. It’s what keeps us human.”

Your eyes bounced between hers and darted down to her lips. You forced yourself to turn away and take another swig of whiskey, burying those feelings down the same way you had been doing for two years.

“How about we go watch a movie in my room?” Nat suggested, knowing that you liked being in her room better. She could tell you felt safer there than in your own, but she wasn’t sure why.

“Yeah, okay.” You cleaned up after yourself and then followed the redhead to her room. She turned on an old James Bond movie and you smiled as she mouthed along to the film. In the dimly lit room, her emerald eyes reflected the TV screen. Her eyebrows fluctuated with the scenes of the movie as her lips followed the words. You breathed in her familiar perfume and shampoo.

“What are you looking at, Y/L/N?” she smirked

I’m in love with you, you thought to yourself. “Thank you for being here for me,” you said instead.

“Always, solnishko. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” She gave you that look with her thumb rubbing circles on your hand, and your stomach clenched with longing. It hurt so bad that you wanted to cry. Because this impeccably kind, strong, caring, and drop-dead gorgeous woman was sitting in front of you, and you were so in love with her. But you couldn’t have her. She had shown no signs of feeling the same way.

Instead, you turned to watch the movie in silence, waiting for Nat to fall asleep before you gave in to your exhaustion.

Natasha found you in the gym early the next morning, dripping in sweat. You punched the specialized heavy bag mercilessly, venting your anger and frustration with the world. At that moment, you were extremely grateful that Tony had designed a punching bag to hold up against yours and Steve’s strength.

Natasha walked closer, taking in the blood seeping through the wraps on your hands. She frowned, worry knotting her stomach. “Solnishko, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you panted with a false smile. “Just getting some energy out.”

“Oh, okay. Well if that’s the case, do you wanna spar?” she asked, seeing through your lie.

“Yeah, sure.”

Inside the ring, you let her charge first. As she went for a basic 1-2 combo, you grabbed her right arm and twisted her around. But before she could hit the ground, she kicked backward at you, knocking you off balance. Her thighs wrapped around your neck and pulled your body towards the ground. But you had sparred with her many times, and her signature move no longer took you by surprise.

You held onto her calves and twisted your bodies so that she landed flat on her back with an ‘oomph.’

You straddled her hips, pinning her arms with a victorious smirk. “I win.” “I guess you do,” she said quietly, her cheeks turning pink. The uncharacteristic blush prompted you to realize the position you had found yourselves in.

“Oh. Oh, uh, sorry, I’ll-” You moved to stand up but she grabbed onto you, holding you in place. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and ears.

“How many years is it gonna take us to talk about this?” She husked.

“Huh? I- I don’t know what you mean, Nat.” You laughed awkwardly. Oh my god.

“Is this why you’ve been acting so off around me?” She realized she wasn’t going to get an answer and smirked before continuing. “Detka, you could’ve just said you wanted to kiss me.” She leaned in closer, her breath fanning over your lips. “Do you want to kiss me, Y/N?”

You nodded slightly and that was it. You weren’t sure who leaned in to close the gap, but it didn’t matter. You were above Natasha Romanoff and her lips were on yours. The kiss started slow at first. Tender and careful, saying so many things. But as hands began to wander and tongues itched to explore, it quickly had moans spilling from your throat.

Natasha pushed you up into a sitting position before straddling your lap. Her hands pushed up your shirt, traveling underneath it and skimming the underside of your bra.

“Nat,” you practically moaned. “Not here. Not like this.”

She looked at you through blown pupils, confusion etched on her face. “What do you mean? You don’t wanna have sex?”

“No! I do. Trust me, I really do. But in case you haven’t noticed, you mean a lot to me, and you deserve better than a quick fuck on a sweaty gym mat. I want to take you on a real date. The whole nine yards.” 

She looked absolutely perplexed at this proposal, and it angered you that no one had treated her well enough for her to expect such a thing. Eventually, she smiled softly and pecked your lips. “I’d love that. And in case you haven’t noticed, you mean a lot to me too.”

[corrodedbisexual]

Suck it better

Steddie | E | ~3.5k | AO3 link

Featuring: Porn With Plot (a little bit of plot ok I tried), Hand & Finger Kink, Thumb-sucking, Praise Kink, Competence Kink (if you squint), Hand Job, Blow Job, Masturbation, Fluff and Smut, Boys Kissing, Experienced Eddie Munson, POV Steve Harrington

A slightly belated gift for @stobinesque 🥰 happy birthday new friend!!!

“Sorry, sorry, just a sec,” Steve chuckles, scrambling to tug his sweatshirt from underneath Eddie’s butt. “I’d really rather not have a needle stuck in my dick.” Above him, Eddie giggles. Steve tosses the shirt away and looks up. “What?” Steve raises his eyebrows, unable not to smile back at Eddie’s cheeky expression. Eddie bites on his fist, looks away, then back to Steve, his grin impossibly wide. “Well. If that happened, I could always suck it better, you know.” *** An impromptu lesson in mending clothes takes an unexpected turn when Steve accidentally stabs his thumb with the needle.

They are in the middle of their weekly hangout at Eddie’s trailer, stretched out on the bed in his room, when Eddie suddenly says, “Hey, you’ve got a hole in your shirt, Stevie.”

Steve tugs on the edge of his green sweatshirt to see where Eddie’s pointing. There, he sees it; just below his armpit, the seams have come apart, revealing a gap about two inches long.

It was about time that happened, he supposes. He’s had this shirt for years, and it’s a little tighter on him now that he doesn’t regularly play sports or adhere to a diet. But it’s one of his comfiest ones, so soft and worn. Also, kind of a bittersweet reminder of simpler times, when he was just a high school student, blissfully clueless of what lurks beneath Hawkins. 

“Shit,” he murmurs. “I really liked this one.”

Eddie snorts.

“You sound like it got set on fire, or something. It’s fine, it just needs stitches.”

“Right, if only I had a… girlfriend who could fix it for me,” Steve replies. He almost said mother, catching himself at the last moment; it’s kind of pathetic to assume your mom would be mending your clothes at nineteen years old. 

Eddie narrows his eyes at him.

“Well, maybe not a girlfriend, but you do have a friend. ”

Steve shakes his head.

“Robin doesn’t know how to sew.”

Eddie groans, kicking him lightly against his shin. 

“And that is exactly why it’s sexist to assume you need a girl for the task, Steve.”

Eddie bends over the edge of the bed and reaches under it, pushing some items around audibly, then letting out a triumphant grunt and coming back up with a metal tin box. Bigger than the one he usually carries weed in. He opens the lid, and when Steve looks inside, he sees a bunch of various colored threads, a small pillow of different sized needles and pins, scissors, and several other items he can’t quite place. 

“Not all girls can sew,” Eddie speaks, taking a couple of green thread rolls and bringing them to Steve’s sleeve in turn, putting aside the one that looks almost the exact same color. “And not all those who can are girls.”

“Oh,” Steve says dumbly. “I wasn’t… trying to be sexist, sorry. I didn’t know you can sew.”

“What, did you think my battle vest was custom ordered?” Eddie smirks, untangling the thread and biting through it once he has the length he needs; Steve’s too ashamed to admit that it’s kind of exactly what he assumed. “I made it myself. I make a lot of things. Been sewing my Halloween costumes from scratch since I was thirteen. Plus, I patch up my own and Wayne’s clothes all the time. This kinda skill saves you a whole lot of cash.”

“That’s… really cool,” Steve finally says, genuinely impressed. Narrowing his eyes, Eddie pokes the thread into the needle once, twice, then swiftly pulling it through the eye. “Wow, how’d you do that so fast?” Steve laughs. “I remember my mum cursing up a storm for several minutes every time. She was obsessed with embroidery for a while.” 

Eddie smirks, setting the thread down and wriggling his fingers in the air. “I guess I just have very talented hands, Stevie.” 

Steve swallows, hoping his cheeks don’t look as red as they suddenly feel, because… he’s having a really, really hard time not thinking about exactly how talented Eddie’s hands could be. 

Steve blinks back to reality when he realizes Eddie’s saying something to him.

“What?”

“I said, gimme.” Eddie chuckles and tugs on Steve’s sleeve. 

“Oh.” Steve looks down at his sweatshirt, then up at Eddie, needle with a green thread already in hand. “Eds, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m aware, I don’t see you holding me at gunpoint,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I can’t bear witness to a perfectly good thing being thrown in the trash. Also, it literally takes five minutes, do I look busy to you? Come on, shirt off.”

Read the rest on AO3

[first-edition]

ICE

TMI BUT- recently I got my NiPpLes pierced and that shit hurt like a mother. My soul almost left my body. Anyway…here’s a cute fluff of Bucky with reader getting her titties stabbed.

Piercer Bucky x fem! Reader

Warning- peircing, talk of breasts, chest and nipples, cursing.

Your heart beats at what feels like a million miles an hour you’ve been saying it for months.

“I want to get my nipples pierced.”

But never until tonight have you acted in it. Luckily for you instead of showing your tits to some rando your boyfriend oh so graciously happens to be a piercer.

Walking into the shop a lady at the front desk helps you out. You fill out the form and pay.

“You excited?” Nat asks as she links arms with you.

“N-not really…it’s gonna hurt.” You say not being the best with pain.

She rolls her eyes but her expression changes when her eyes land on the figure behind you. Turning your head to see as well a smile forms across your lips seeing your boyfriend of 2 years. James Buchanan Barnes.

“Bucky!?” You exclaim happily.

“Hey doll. What are you doing here?” He asks coming up to you placing his arm around you pulling you for a kiss, the height difference truly immaculate, and places a kiss on your lips. His sent of cologne and cigarette smoke makes you feel at home.

“She’s getting her nipples pierced!” Nat says way too excitedly.

Bucky raises his eyebrow at you.

“Really?…” he asks lowly before looking you up and down.

You who’s only ever gotten your ear pierced at Claire’s, which Bucky hated, and cried the entire time. You squeezed his hand as if you were giving birth. Thank goodness it was his metal one.

“Come on.” He says.

“W-what?” You say

“I was called out here I’m the only piercer on duty doll.” He says holding out his hand. You look at nat who gives a thumbs up and then back at Bucky taking his hand. He leads to to the back of the shop to a room.

He flips the sign in the door before closing it and locking it and walks over to you.

“Sit baby. And take your top off and bra is your wearing one.” He says switching into a semi professional mode.

You sit down and remove you top half of clothing leaving you nude on top. Meanwhile Bucky washes his hands and puts on black gloves and sets up new supplies.

“Honey I can hear your heart beat from there lay down if you want to.” He says glancing back at you. Before taking off the gloves and putting new ones on.

“No I’m okay.” You say a slight shiver in your voice that makes him chuckle shaking his head. As he places the tray with tools on a side table and sits on a stool wheeling himself over.

“Arms to side.” He says you listen and he leans over turning on a far before ripping open a disinfectant wipe.

“Ah. Cold” you gasp looking up at the ceiling.

“Come on now be a big girl.” He chuckles.

Blush burns against your ears shoulders and cheeks as having your boyfriend so close to your tits in an non-sexual way both turns you on and scares you due to what’s to come.

He take a marker and begins the process of marking where the pericing will go after taking a few minutes to center them he wheels back looking from a distance to get the placement right and too admire his half nude lover sitting so perfectly in front of him.

He wheels back over to you and reaches to the table.

“These are the clamps okay?” He says you nod.

He picks up the needle, that you were trying so desperately not to look at, and holds it between his fingers while holding the clamp.

“You ready?” He asks your heart skips a beat as it’s already time to jab a needle through one of the most precious parts of your body.

“…yes.” You say.

“Don’t hold your breath alright.” He says knowing that exactly what your doing.

“And, one two- breath in and out” he intstructs.

Pain then pressure then pain.

“F-fuck..” you sniff trying not to cry. That was only one.

“You okay?” He asks planting a kiss against your cheek before putting in the jewelry

“yeah. It wasn’t bad but damn.” You squeak. He laughs and nods.

“Next one.” He says and does the same and clamps and then counts.

“Mother-Ahh Fuck!” You curse the second one almost ascending you to the neather realm.

“You’re okay doll.” He says pushing the jewelry through.

“Okay look.” He says moving back so you can get up to walk to the mirror.

You gasp and smile they came out so good.

“Ooohh!!” You giggle.

“I’ll help you clean them at home and then when three-5 months roll around if you wanna change the jewelry let me know.” He says taking his gloves off throwing them away and cleaning up the space.

“Did you drive here?” He ask

“No nat did.” You reply still admiring yourself.

“Good, don’t drive for 24 hours the seat belt might hurt and cause damage, wear clothing that is close to your body for support but don’t wear a bra for a few days. Um.. after 10 minutes pass or so you will be in a bit of agony it’ll hurt for few hours so as soon as possible take something. I’m glad you came over right now, at night, I’m off. And you can sleep the pain away.” He says walking over to you.

“They look good.” He says nods kissing your shoulder.

“Come on I’ll drive you home.” He says. You grab your things and he helps you put on your shirt before walking out of the room. Bucky grabs his jacket and keys following you.

“How was it?!” Nat asks

“Owie!” You say

“Bucky’s off so I’m gonna go home with him.” You say she nods

“Send me a picture! And let me know what it’s like.” She winks you nod. She waves walking out.

“That’s another thing.” Bucky says holding out his hand for you as you both walk out.

“What?” You ask.

“No sex for 3 weeks.” He says

“WHAT!?”

[xxmrs-waynexx]

I’m Fine

Jason x Reader

A/N: I am not romantically interested in Jason (yes I will go back to my corner) but writing this one was really fun. I am sorry it’s so sort.

Warnings: Canon typical injuries, mention of an nsfw topic

Request: You patch Jason up after his patrol

--

You had been doing the dishes. It was nearly three in the morning but you woke up. You didn’t know why. Your dream was normal- although now forgotten, you weren’t stressed about anything, you didn’t even have to get up early. You just... opened your eyes and got to work. 

You kept the lights dim, using only lamps and not the “big light,” as your boyfriend often called it. You were so used to Mr. Sleep All Day needing the lights down when you were awake that you just forgot the big light was an option. Besides, he would be home any minute. At least, you assumed so. Normally you just woke up and he was with you. 

As you gently pushed your cat off the counter -it was too wet for her little feet- you heard the window open. You grabbed the knife you were cleaning and swung it at whoever had just walked up to you. Unfortunately, he grabbed your arm. Fortunately, it was Red Hood...

Unfortunately, he was clearly hurt.

“Jason! Your leg-”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, letting you go. “Nice instincts though, babe. You coulda stabbed me if I wasn’t...” he grinned, “Well, me.”

It took a few minutes of begging and demanding that he sit down for at least twenty minutes so that you could help him. He flopped down on the couch so you could tend to his wounds. For a man that said he was fine, he sure was groaning a lot. In fact, he was complaining like he does when you pluck his eyebrows.

You knelt at his side, cleaning the gash in his thigh. You plucked out all the debris with tweezers that have honestly seen better days. Then, while he bit his sleeve, you stitched him together. 

“Y’know...” He groaned. “Normally I like it when you’re kneeling for me.”

“Shut up, Jason,” you let out a big breath. “You are so lucky I was even awake.”

The pause seemed to last just a second too long. His dramatic groans turned into a soft whisper, “Hey. I appreciate you. I know I don’t say it as often as I should but... I do love and appreciate you.” 

You set the needle down, looking over at him. He was already looking at you, holding his breath. This wasn’t the first time he had said he loved you. But it was a hard thing for him to say. He showed it. Everyday he showed how much he loved you. He just couldn’t say it. There was some mental block that stopped him.

“I love you too, Jay. Now relax. Please.”

[julesthequirky]

Beautiful Trauma - A Soldier Boy Miniseries: Chapter 1

Beautiful Trauma

Pairings: Reader x Ben/Soldier Boy

Summary: The reader is the real widower of Ben/Soldier Boy and loved their life together before the incident. In 1983 she took Compound V, so she could be with Ben forever, but in 1984 her life crashes to the ground, and she's stuck in a world without him. In 2022 a knock at the door changes her life, and when she's told that Ben is alive she hopes that there can be a forever after all.

A/N: Reader has certain traditional gender values, that are antiquated today. I'm also hoping to convey a softer side to Ben, than what we have seen on The Boys.

Chapter Warnings: Antiquated views, language.

Chapter W/C: 2015

This work is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. If you like it, heart, and reblog it. All feedback is gold.

1983

It burned as it travelled through your body. The agony compared to nothing else. To say you were unprepared had been an understatement. Ben said it would hurt, and you would wish you were dead. You’d scoffed at his words. You’d been through pain. Your daughter’s birth had been complicated – If you could live through that, then you could live through this. To that, he had raised his eyebrows at your disregard – “Alright, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Your throat ripped from the scream tearing through, sweat dripped from your skin in rivulets, and nausea built rapidly that it had you heaving over the side of the bed into a bucket Ben had placed for you.

You wished you had heeded his warning. Because he was right. You honestly wished you were dead. You grasped Ben’s hand tight. Tighter still when the pain built. Your breath hitched, and you grit your teeth. It didn’t take long for you to beg him to end your life.

“Ben, please, I can’t. Please, Ben. Please!”

Ben smoothed your hair away from your sweaty face gently. The slight pull felt like needles stabbing into your skull. He hushed you in the same tender manner he would do with your daughter as he dabbed a cool flannel on your forehead to help keep you from burning up. The contact had you crying out. You sobbed, which was another mistake. The tears felt like acid as they trickled down the side of your face, disappearing into your hairline.

“I know, darling.”

His soft, deep voice boomed inside your head, and stars burst behind your lids. A migraine bloomed behind a temple, and you welcomed the black dots descending with it. Relief would be a godsend.

Ben’s thumb stroked the back of your hand, and you hmmed before finally succumbing to the darkness dragging you under.

*

“Ben.”

Saying his name felt as if razor blades were slicing your throat after swallowing them. You lay looking at Ben, exhausted and aching. It hurt to move, and thankfully most of the pain had subsided.

“Hmm?”

“Water.”

He stood to fetch the water you requested. He gently placed your hand on the bed, but you grabbed his hand, forcing Ben to turn his attention to you.

“I don’t feel any different.”

The tears burned in your eyes until you blinked them away.

“What if…what if I’m not…”

He knelt and cradled your face with his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks and wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Hey. Hey, don’t concern yourself with that now. There’s time for that later.”

You wanted to nod, but everything hurt. The bright agony had disappeared, but now it was a dull ache. Everywhere.

Ben stood, and this time you let him. He exited the room but returned soon enough with the water you’d requested. He sat it on the bedside table and helped you sit up. He plumped the pillows behind your head and eased you back. The bed dipped as he sat beside you. He held the glass of water, bringing it to your lips, and tipped the liquid in.

You gulped it down, the coolness refreshing and aided your throat.

“Easy now.”

Ben controlled the flow, stopping you from gulping the entire thing like a parched beast. You asked for more after emptying the glass, but he just shook his head.

“Rest now.”

He helped you lie down. From the cupboard, he pulled out a blanket. He shook it from its folds and placed it over you, tucking you in. He kissed you on the lips and wished you a good night.

2022

For once, you were bright-eyed and clear-headed. Today was starting to feel like a good day. You didn’t know what it was, but today was yours, and you could do whatever you wished. Perhaps today would be the day you’d tackle laundry, and maybe you’d get around to the rest of the housework.

You gulped back the medication, chasing it down with water, and then you made yourself breakfast. Waffles and ice cream. Then time seemed to stand still as you looked at the just made plate.

Your hands gripped the counter as your vision began to distort and crack. Damnit. You thought you’d gotten over this. You closed your eyes and were instantly transported back to the eighties.

Ben was laughing, and as he ate his waffles with ice cream, he was also feeding his daughter, pretending the spoon was a plane. His plane sounds were crappy, but your daughter loved it, and so did he.

“Woman, where’s my coffee?”

You lifted the mug up, so he could see it. “Got it right here.” Then you took your plate and his coffee to the table and sat to eat with your family. Ben leaned over and kissed you on the temple before resuming eating and feeding his daughter.

The plate of waffles no longer seemed appetizing. The ice cream had melted, saturating the waffles and the entire thing had congealed together. Nearly forty years had passed, but you still couldn’t look at a plate of waffles in the same way again. In a quick fit of rage, you screamed and tossed the plate, sending it careening into the wall.

A bash on your front door stopped your rage from going any further. But annoyance set in. It was most likely your neighbour coming to yell at you for disrupting her peaceful morning. You were all ready to tell her to go fuck off. You wrenched the door open ready to yell at her, but instead of your sage-toting neighbour, a man stood in your doorway.

“Bad time, luv?” He asked, peering around your door, eyeing the smashed plate, waffles, and melted ice cream on the floor.

Cockney. The long black coat he wore made him look like Neo from The Matrix, except it was dirty as fuck. He had no care for his appearance. Dishevelled hair and a beard to match. You regarded him with irritation and suspicion.

“Fuck you want?” You closed your door behind you, so he couldn’t peer in like the nosey fucker he was.

“Charming. You Miss Smith?” Though he pronounced it as Smiff.

“Mrs.” You corrected.

“Right. Well, I’ve got a warrant for your arrest ‘ere.” He showed you his badge.

What?!

“Your bad day’s about to get a whole lot worse.”

*

Some cop. He didn’t take you to the station. Instead, he had you in some crappy run-down building where he’d built an office for himself. He brought a seat out for you and handcuffed you to a table leg.

He wasn’t alone. He had a group around him. Some skinhead sat with a moody Asian, a young buck and a black man, who all watched her intently.

“You’re not a cop, are you?”

“Nah. But I do work with the CIA.” And then he proceeded to show you the badge. At this point, you didn’t know whether or not he spoke the truth, and you were about to say, until—

“What do you know about Soldier Boy?”

It all came crashing back. What you’d worked so hard to barricade came flooding through. The memories flashed right after each other. Domestic bliss. Your daughter. Arguments, and that night before he went away to Nicaragua.

You tucked your head between your legs as best you could and breathed steadily. In and out, nice and slow. Your hands curled into fists, and you shook, desperate to keep it together.

“Alright. You tell us where the Crimson Countess is, and we’ll let you go.”

At her name, you looked up. You fixed the unkempt one with a stare so intense his gaze flicked away to one of his gang members.

“Why would I know where Cuntess is?”

He grinned deviously. “Ain’t she his boyfriend?”

Boyfriend. What a laugh. It had been a shitty PR stunt to up Crimson’s stats, to boost her sales, and in turn, it would boost Soldier Boy into the stratosphere. Everyone loved a power couple, and they were the ones to be. But you knew the reality. He hated it. And so did you. It caused many arguments where you begged and pleaded with him to cut the deal. You resented Crimson and the rest of Payback for going along with it. But most of all, you resented Ben. And he knew it.

There had been no big wedding for you and Ben. No, it had been done in a dingy registrar’s office who had been forced to sign an NDA. There had been no wedding dress, bouquet, first dance or cutting of the cake. Just you in a pretty dress, him in black slacks and a Philly baseball shirt.

Of course, after waffles and ice cream, he had taken you home and fucked you silly, and you had loved it, forgiving him.

“Yeah, and I’m his wife.”

After those words came out of your mouth, the leader smiled even wider. This had been his plan all along. To get you to divulge “secrets” as such.

“Mon dieu…” Whispered the man stting beside the Asian.

“Ben’s dead. Why can’t you let me be miserable and live my life?”

“He’s not dead—”

“He died saving America from a nuclear meltdown in Ohio. It was all over the news.”

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Ben’s agent wasn’t answering your calls, nor were any of Payback. Your daughter screamed, wanting to be changed or fed. But there was also a good chance that she just wanted her daddy. Then it came on your tv.

BREAKING NEWS: SOLDIER BOY IS DEAD.

The phone dropped from your hand, clattering to the floor. Your daughter’s cries felt distant as you crashed to your knees in front of the tv, watching Ben’s pictures flood the screen. Apparently, the bastards at Vought didn’t think you deserved the decency to know before everyone else.

The weeks after were Hell. You couldn’t grieve properly and had to learn to navigate the world without Ben. His face was all over newspapers, magazines and Times Square. You couldn’t get away from it if you tried. The tv showed false girlfriends offering their condolences and Crimson Countess was all over your screen, blubbering about how Americal had lost such a hero and how she’d lost the love of her life. In a distraught, drunken moment one evening, you threw a crappy ornament at the tv, smashing the screen and blowing it up.

No one knew the real Ben. No one, but you. You screamed down the phone and left messages on their answering phone demanding, pleading, begging for anything. But they did nothing. Vought didn’t care. Instead they erected a monument of Soldier Boy in honor of his service and act of heroism.

You struggled to adjust. First, you had to change all the accounts into your name, which also meant getting a job, so you could pay the bills. You hadn’t worked in years, and they required all kinds of skills you didn’t have. Then, you got testy with the man trying to help you put a resume together, so much you accused him of judging you for being a widower and a single mother. You didn’t know how the world worked anymore and needed Ben by your side.

You never even got an invite to his memorial.

“I see you weren’t privy to the truf.”

“What do you mean?”

The man in the long coat scratched his face as he said. “He nevva died. Payback betrayed him and got taken by the Russians, but he’s escaped.”

Payback.

Betrayal.

The story of him saving America from a nuclear meltdown had been a lie.

Ben was alive.

Hope blossomed in your chest.

“And we fink he’s gonna go after Payback.”

You didn’t give a shit about them. They deserved everything that would come to them when Ben found them.

“Let them die.” You were adamant.

“Woah, hold on now—”

“I don’t care. They took my daughter! And when Ben finds out, he'll go scorched earth to find her.”

[scarisd3ad]

Doctor duties

part of the 'to the end and back' series (Daryl Dixon x reader)

masterlist

Taglist

>>Next

Summary - reader doing her doctor duties while at the quarry

Warnings - none

era - quarry (season one)

edited

All my medical equipment is set up on a table near Dale's parked RV. I've got a little fold-up table and two chairs set up. Glenn had brought the folding chairs and table on a run a while back because 'the doctor shouldn't have to do her duties on the ground.' no matter how often I tell Glenn that I'm not a doctor, he still calls me 'doc.'

I don't get many illnesses in the group, but there are a lot of cuts, bruises, and injuries. "Hey, doc, can you check this out for me?" Shane asks as he walks over and sits in the chair across from me. "sure," I say as he puts his arm up onto the table, revealing a nasty cut. It's deep, and he'll probably need stitches.

 "how'd this happen?" I ask as I take some alcohol on a cotton pad and dab it across the cut. "Out on a run for water, cut myself up on a fence post," he says with a hiss as the alcohol hits his wound. "Sorry, sorry," I mutter as I grab some gauze, a needle, and some thread. "you're probably gonna need stitches, though." I clean the needle with some alcohol before threading the needle. "Alright, this is probably gonna hurt. I'm sorry," I say before stabbing the needle through his skin.

Shane hisses as he grips the plastic table. "Ke-keep going," he mutters. I finish his stitches before wrapping it up with gauze and sending him on his way. "y/n! y/n! y/n!" Sophia runs up to my table with Carl trailing behind her. "What is it, soph?" she points to a band-aid barely sticking to her leg. "Can I have another?" she asks. I don't understand why kids are so obsessed with band-aids; the scratch on her shin is long gone and has been for a week. "sure," I say before reaching into the band-aid box and handing her one.

 Sophia and Carl run off again, leaving me to clean up the mess of blood left on the table after Shane's stitches. "Hey..." I look up to see Glenn standing there with a smile. I raise my eyebrow skeptically. "What do you want, dumbass?" I mutter as he sits in the chair across from me. "nothin' just wanted to say hi," I roll my eyes. "don't touch anything." Glenn raises his hands before laughing, "I won't, alright?" we sit there chit-chatting until we notice Daryl Dixon walking towards us.

Oh god, my heart speeds up. I'm scared of him and his brother everyone is. No one understands why either of them are staying with us; they are rarely at camp anyway. Merle is always out, raising havoc. Half the time, we don't know where the fuck he is. And Daryl is always out hunting; if he's not, he's telling nonsense stories about a chupacabra.

"Hey doc, need yer help." Daryl only asks for help if he really needs it. I gesture for Glenn to move while staring at him with pleading eyes, begging him not to leave me alone with him. "what's wrong?" I ask as Daryl takes a seat. "Just want ya to look at this scratch," he says, tapping a small, almost healed cut on his cheek. I nod and walk over to him, kneeling to look at it. It's small and still red, not any green color, so I quickly grab a cotton pad and some Neosporin. I squeeze some onto his cheek before dabbing it with the cotton pad. I sit there for a second with his chin in my hand. I can feel his breath against my face. He makes me so nervous, and I don't know why.

"We-well, it's not infected, so you're good," I whisper before pulling away from him. "Alright, that's good. I'll see ya later, I guess," he mutters before getting up and walking away. I look over to see Glenn sitting in my chair with his brows raised. "Move," I mutter as I swat at his shoulder. he laughs before getting up and taking his seat across from me. "What was that with Daryl?" he asks, my brows furrow. "I was doing my job," I whisper as I throw away the cotton pad and put the Neosporin back into my bag. "No, it looked like you were going to kiss him." my face scrunches up in disgust. "Gross why would I want to kiss Daryl Dixon?"

Taglist

@rivversin @soul4death @furiousheartpoetry @silicone-bonez @nezukos-number1fan @your-shifting-gurl @maziejay08 @oi-itse @tati-21 @kimbunnysstuff @blipblopper @ramielll @ilyhannah @daryldixonnn @delicatebearpandaopera @crypticmushroom

[newtonsheffield]

Molly, does Tom Dorset ever witness Kate straddling Anthony or sitting on his lap while she tattoos him or any other obnoxious PDA? I know you said there's no real conflict there, but does Tom continue to go to Pins and Needles once it's clear Anthony is a fixture there?

Oh he absolutely witnesses, more than once, Anthony leaning over the counter of the shop smiling like the cat that got the cream as Kate leans in to kiss him.

He cleared his throat once, looking awkwardly at the ceiling as Kate pulled back, "Hey Tom, ready?"

Tom nodded, feeling a little stab of disappointment when he sees the guy, Anthony she called him the last time he saw this guy, a stab of disappointment that became something a little more vicious when the guy turned towards him, straightening his tie, clapping Tom on the shoulder.

"Alright mate?"

"Fine thanks." Tom sighed, bristling at the man's accent.

He turned back to Kate, waving to her one last time before he left. Kate sighed watching him go, her bottom lip caught in her teeth before she shook herself.

"Right, let's get started."

He waited until she was working. When he'd usually try to subtly get Kate to come and see his band play tonight and he asked. "So, you and Mr Eton hey?"

Kate scoffed, rolling her eyes, "He didn't go to Eton, actually."

Tom raised his eyebrows, a little surprised, "Really? Where'd he go? State school I'll bet."

He had her, he could tell, because she cleared her throat and muttered something under her breath.

"Sorry, where was that?"

She sighed, "Latymer Upper."

"Oh." Tom laughed, "My apologies, just one the best-rated schools in the country then. God, sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

She rolled her eyes, "He can't help that, and he's actually a really great guy."

"Oh, I'm sure." Tom scoffed, "Plenty to keep you interested."

Kate stiffened, her brow furrowing, "Don't be a fucking arsehole, Tom, it doesn't suit you."

He let it settle over him, the sharp rebuke, and really, that was what he respected most about Kate: the way she firmly backed her boundaries, backed herself and her talent and he really did feel like an arsehole. Jealous over something he didn't have any right to. More than anything he was annoyed that she looked at Anthony how she'd never looked at him. Hell, she hadn't even ever flirted back.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be an arsehole." He swallowed, "I'm happy for you, if you're happy."

She smiled, tilting her head slightly exposing a row of tiny bites on her neck for a second that he'd rather not see. "I'm really happy."

He could see it, written all over her face and maybe that was why he said, "The only private school boy I ever fucked insisted on leaving his socks on the entire time, that true for all of them or just Harrow boys?"

Kate's laugh echoed through the shop, shaking her head at him, "Just Harrow boys I guess, but I'll keep an eye out."

[lockleysfav]

Soft Love

Marc Spector x fem!reader

Sum: You are captured by harrows men and tortured up until Marc finds you chained against a wall on the verge of death.

Warnings: NSFW, Mentions of blood and violence, swearing, angst, panicked marc, passing out, use of Harrows crane.

It was now day 3 of Harrows endless torture. He demanded answers, information about your boyfriend Marc Spector but of course you would rather die than ever give up a speck of information about your boyfriend that could get him hurt in any way possible.

You were chained up against a wall in the cafeteria where Harrow himself and his people would eat, bicker about you, mumble a few words to you that you wouldn’t hear because majority of the time you were half conscious, and on a rare occasion, they would throw an object at you.

There were a few occasions where one of the elderly ladies would feed you at the dawn of day before anyone would wake up, you felt guilty when you couldn’t open your mouth to thank her because it would cause you pain due to the swelling on your jaw from the beatings you would get. But unfortunately, good things never last and you thrashed, screamed and cried when you were forced to watch as Harrow stopped the womans heart. He turned to you and sighed, telling you it was on you that she had to die, then left again.

It was an hour later when he came out with two men behind him. His crane clacking on the stone floor as he made his way to you.

“Evening Y/N” he mutters, looking down to your bare feet covered in blood then back up to your face. He grimaced at the sight. One of your eyes swollen shut and purple, your other eye bloodshot and possibly blind, and other cuts and bruises on your face. Of course there was still dried up blood smudged on your face. Harrow sighed and lifted your chin with his crane but you weren’t responsive, your head limply rolling to the side causing the man to think for a second.

He put his crane back down and looked to his men. “Wake her up, i don’t care how”.

They nodded and scurried off somewhere before coming back with a large bucket of ice cold water. Harrow stood a few feet away from you, leaning on his crane, watching his men stride over to you and dump the water over you.

You gasped awake and screamed in shock from the sudden cold. It was agonising as it felt like a bunch of needles stabbing into you and you instinctively called out for Marc.

“He’s not here, sweetheart” Harrows voice booms in the large, empty cafeteria. Your head snaps up and you shakily look to him, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Just fucking kill me, i’m not telling you shit, a-asshole” your voice was hoarse and scratchy from the lack of food and water. Harrow chuckled and walked over to you. “You’re still of great use to me Y/N”.

You shake your head. “the only great use to you is that fucking crane you old shitbag” you gather up as much spit you can and you spit it right in his face. As soon as it landed on him you burst into laughter despite the pain it caused you.

He cleared his throat and wiped away the spit with a cloth and his silence suddenly scared you. But before you could even take in a breath, the hard edge of his crane hit you across the head causing your head to snap to the side, your eyebrow gushing with blood and you coughed out the blood that formed in your mouth.

Harrow scratched his stubble and stood to face you again. “It seems we’re finished for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N”.

++++

Only thirty minutes passed when the doors to the cafeteria were thrown off it’s hinges and Marc stumbled through them. His eyes desperately scanning around the area until his eyes caught onto you. The glimpse of relief he felt was crushed when he saw the puddle of blood underneath you and the fact you were also not moving at all.

He rushed towards you and cupped your cheeks. “Hey..Baby? wake up for me”. He shakes you slightly and pauses to see if you’ll open your eyes but he starts to tremble when you don’t flinch. He steps back to examine the chains and quickly summons the suit.

“s’gonna be alright baby just hold on for me”. Marc presses up against you and nudges his shoulder underneath your chin so your head can rest on him while he rips off the chains. He managed to get one off the wall before he heard footsteps rushing towards the cafeteria.

“Fuck” he panics and rips the other chain off the wall, wasting no time to lift you into his arms bridle style and run out of the building. In the middle of running through the streets of London he wrapped his cape around you, shielding you from anything that may possibly harm you.

Luckily, he lost his men immediately and he started to stumble. His knees buckling and muffled sobs escaping him when he felt you start to squirm in his hold.

“G-Get off me! get off!” you started to scream in panic, you body thrashing and Marc quickly laid you down to gently pull away his cape. You flinched when the cape brushed against your cheek and you were about to try and run until Marc whimpered your name.

The sound of his voice was like suddenly falling into a pile of fluffy pillows, like being in heaven. You quivered as you sat up, looking into his eyes to see if it was really him. His eyes were puffy and almost purple from crying so much. His hair was ruffled and greasy from not showering in days due to the non stop searching and worrying for you. He was trembling almost violently and when you stumbled to reach him and feel him he huffed before crying again. Your face fell into his chest and he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you up and sitting you in his lap. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so so sorry i won’t ever forgive myself” he bawls, his hands fisting the back of your shirt, never daring to let you go again.

You were still falling in and out of consciousness with your head laying on his shoulder. You stuttered “i-it’s oka-okay Marc” he only cried harder at the struggle in your voice. He brought his hand up to the back of your head and he stroked your hair gently, turning his head and wincing when he watches your eyes twitch and roll back again. He kissed the side of your head and lifted you. “M’gonna take you home okay? yeah? gonna keep you safe” he repeats those last four words until he gets you back to the flat, kicking the door open and rushing over to the bed and laying you down on it.

You were so still it made Marc feel sick. So sick to the point he rushed into the bathroom and threw up into the toilet, tears running down his cheeks as he felt so helpless and pathetic….until he heard your weak cries for him. For him.

He jumped up and pushed through the door back to you and looked down at you. “What is it? Hey look at me baby” he took the chance to keep you awake and he cradled the back of your head. “Stay awake honey” he quickly reached for the bottle of water that laid on the counter and he unscrewed the lid, sitting you up so you were supported by his arm. He reached around and used his thumb to open your mouth, using his free arms to pour the water into your mouth. You choked on it at first and Marc sat you up more so you could cough it out, his hand that rested on your back now rubbing slow gentle circles. He waited a moment before trying again and he smiled when you managed to gulp down the water. When you started drinking too much he pulled away the bottle so you could at least breathe for a sec but you whined and grabbed the bottle, drinking it down until it was empty and only then did you take a breather.

Marc took the bottle out of your hand and threw it somewhere. “Oh baby” he whispers and rests his head against yours. You sniffle and move your head to look at him. “I m-m-m” you huff in frustration and Marc shakes his head, still gently rubbing your back. “Take your time baby it’s okay” he kisses your temple and you take a shaky breath. “I m-missed you” you huff a small laugh with a smile and he does the same, tears filling his eyes again. “I love you so much” he states, letting you bury you face into his shoulder again.

———

[athena-writes-i-guess]

The Piercing

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader(no pronouns used)

Summary: Eddie keeps you distracted while you get a bellybutton piercing

Genre: Fluff I guess?

Word Count: 986

Warnings: suggestive language, mentions of D&D gore, needles, pet names. 

Author’s Note: This takes place in the same universe as my series but is just a short little moment in their friendship so can be read as a little one-shot blurb. 

Masterlist

“What do you mean you’re afraid of needles?” 

This was not the first time you’ve had to have this conversation with a friend, just the first time in a long time. You and Eddie were laying on his bed, listening to one of his tapes when you asked him to go with you to get your bellybutton pierced. You explained that you would need your best friend to hold your hand and talk to you during it because of your very normal fear of being stabbed. 

“Doll, don’t you have like 9 piercings or something?” The brunette asked as he turned on his side to look at you. “Two of which you won’t even tell me where they are. Though I think I can guess.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, receiving a light shove from you. “And like a bunch of tattoos everywhere? How are you afraid of needles?” 

“I don’t know! I like having tattoos and piercings but I can’t stand actually getting them. I get all sweaty and I feel like I’m gonna pass out unless someone keeps me distracted.” You explained, turning on your side to face him, “And I’m itching for a new one so I need you to hold my hand okay?” You sent him your best puppy dog eyes. 

“Of course I’ll go babydoll, just trying to understand how you can have so many piercings while being afraid of how you get them.” He laughed, “We‘ll have to go to the next town over, there isn’t a place that’ll do it in Hawkins.” 

“Okay!” You chirped happily.

“When did you want to do it?” 

“Now.” 

“Sorry? Did you just say now?” He said, looking at the clock. 5:00pm. You’d have to leave now to get there before they close. 

“Yeah, while I’m feeling brave.” You said as you got up and started shoving your shoes on. Eddie laughed as he too got out of bed and grabbed his shoes. 

You arrived at the shop about half an hour later, the bell overhead rang as you pushed open the door. There was a tough looking man covered in tattoos sitting behind a display case full of body jewelry. “Hi there! I’m looking to get my bellybutton pierced.” You said. 

“I’ll need to see your I.D., sign this form.” He said, pulling a form out of a binder and setting it and a pen down in front of you. You handed him your I.D. and he examined it while you signed the consent form. “Okay follow me back here.” He said, leading you to the back of the shop after handing you your card back. You and Eddie followed him to a little room in the back as the metalhead rubbed soothing circles into the back of your joined hands with his thumb. 

“Okay, lay down for me please, and lift your shirt a bit. My name is Mark and I’ll be doing your piercing.” The piercer said as he patted the long padded table that sat against the wall. You did as he told you, laying down on your back and lifting your shirt up to the bottom of your ribs. Eddie grabbed your hand again once you were settled, sending you a comforting smile. “So I’m going to clean the area, then you’ll feel a pinch from the clamp, once I have it lined up right you’ll feel another pinch and some pressure from the needle, once I get the jewelry in I’ll release the clamp and you’ll be all set. It’ll be real quick.” Mark said as he set up his tray of tools. 

“Thank you.” You said, Eddie could hear the nervous wobble in your voice.

“Hey, why don’t you finish telling me about the end of that campaign you were talking about earlier?” He suggested gently, “Remember to squeeze my hand if you need okay, doll?”

You smiled gratefully up to your friend and nodded, “So we were in the castle of the war lord right?” You asked as you felt the cold of the damp cotton swab on your naval as the piercer cleaned the area. Eddie nodded.

“Okay so we were stuck in a fight with his guards in the throne room, it wasn’t looking good for us. So our wizard cast a summoning spell on this NPC we loved, Kalavar. I don’t know why she thought that would help but she did it anyway.” You chuckled, you gave a quick inhale when you felt the pinch of the clamp. “Well, she rolled a natural 1 and got a crit failure. Sooo our DM said that he was summoned, and did appear with us. But he was inside-out, still a person who could walk and move but everything was on the outside instead, he couldn’t talk or anything and he had eyes on the ends of his fingers.” Your voice raised in octaves as you felt the pressure of the needle entering your skin and you squeezed down on Eddie’s hand for a moment.  

He laughed, “Your DM sure was rough with the punishments. Was he able to help?” Getting your mind back to the conversation.

“No, he screamed in pain the whole time.” You chuckled as you felt the clamp release. “Was more of a hindrance than anything.” 

“Okay, well you’re all done.” Mark said as he threw away his used supplies. 

“Super easy, right, princess?” Eddie asked as he helped you get up from the table gingerly, minding your sore bellybutton. 

“Thank you Eddie.” You said as the two of you followed Mark back to the front of the shop.

“That’ll be $20.” The piercer said, you handed him a $20 bill as you thanked him before you and Eddie walked out of the shop.  

“What do you think, Eds?” You asked, showing him your new piercing. 

“Looks great, sweetheart. So when am I going to get to see the others?” He asked with a cheeky wink. 

“Maybe in your dreams, Munson.” You shot back.

[cold1dead1eyes]

31. forced relaxation

"mr. stark, i'm fine." peter muttered, one hand braced against the sofa. the floor is moving more than he thinks it should be. he pitches to the side and mr. stark catches his shoulder, slowly lowering him onto the couch. he presses one big hand against peter's throat.

"peter, you're burning up." it's not that bad. the room is tilting and his throat feels like it's being stabbed by a thousand needles and there's a man in his skull pounding away at his brain with a hammer but it's fine. he's fine, really. it's really nothing worth worrying about.

"it's just a fever. i'll be okay, i... i gotta get back out there, mr. stark." peter mutters under his fever-haze, body buzzing with adrenaline. he shouldn't have called mr. stark when the dizziness hit. if he just hunkered down in an alleyway until it passed he could be back out there by now--

"you're not going to be any good to anyone passed out." peter startles when something heavy falls on his shoulders. he opens his eyes to see mr. stark draping a blanket over his body. he's slumped over on the sofa, but he doesn't even remember closing his eyes.

mr. stark's worried eyes make peter uneasy. he squirms under the blanket, looking at anywhere but his mentor's face. he doesn't get sick. not since the bite, his healing is too fast, so why--

"when was the last time you took a break?" mr. stark's voice, so deep and close to peter, makes him jerk back to attention. he shakes his head and pushes to sit up, but just ends up slumping back over. god, why is the room moving like that?

"um… never?" he mutters. mr. stark clicks his tongue and shakes his head. peter can see him furrow his eyebrows through his blurry vision.

"never? peter, you..." he trails off. peter feels the sofa dip when mr. stark sits next to him. "you can't keep pushing yourself like this. it's not gonna work forever."

"what about my job?" he whines, and mr. stark chuckles. he puts an arm around peter's shoulder and brings him to lean against his chest.

"kid, i promise that new york can survive one day without their friendly neighbourhood spiderman." peter shakes his head, then regrets it when it makes his brain ting around in his skull like a ping pong ball.

"but, mr. stark--"

"nuh-uh. no buts. you're staying here until you feel better." mr. stark's hand is stroking over peter's back. it's strangely comforting. he takes a deep breath and lets himself rest his head on mr. stark. the stroking continues for a few seconds more, and peter is almost asleep by the time mr. stark talks.

"your aunt would have my head on a stick if she knew that i let you go out in this state." his voice is so hazy through the fever. peter knows that he's too far gone to get back up now. he can't even figure out why he needs to get up, why he can't just stay bundled up on mr. stark's sofa forever.

"thank you for letting me stay." he mumbles. he's starting to get sleepy. mr. stark pats him on the back.

"hey, no thanks needed." there's a pause. peter forces himself to stay awake. "you're part of the team."

"thanks-- i mean. uh. cool." he stammers, and mr. stark just laughs. he nudges at peter down the couch, sliding his head down to his lap.

"c'mon, lay down properly." peter's eyes go as wide as they can. he looks up at mr. stark, hoping that his awe isn't too obvious.

"y-you're staying?" he gapes. mr. stark lets out a huff.

"kid, i'm not going anywhere unless we're being invaded by aliens." he pauses. "again."

peter laughs sleepily, then closes his eyes. he falls asleep with mr. stark's hand gently stroking his head.

prompt from @whumpay

[total-lunareclipse4]

🌜A permanent choice🌛

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: based on this request ->  Hi! can i request a GN! reader x eddie where the reader is eddie’s tattoo artist? i haven’t been able to stop thinking about this concept 😍 thank youuu

warnings: none? mentions of needles maybe?

word count: 1k ish

You were sitting at the counter, going over some finances. You shifted on the uncomfortable stool, the fake leather sticking to the skin under your thighs. You had a couple fans placed all over the store, but it was doing little to battle the hot temperatures.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you put the book you were staring at aside, in need for a break. It had been a slow day, two consultations in the morning but no real action yet. The coworker that was supposed to come in had called in sick, leaving you all alone to bore to death.

You were about to go get a drink when you heard the bell atop the front door ring, announcing the arrival of a new client.

Turning around, you saw the familiar face of Eddie Munson. The regular you loved tattooing the most. There were five tattoos on his body, collaborations between you two. What was most special about him and his concepts is that he always included you in them. He’d arrive at your shop, a few ideas in mind, and draw them out for you, accepting your suggestions and asking for your opinions. In the end, they would always end up being something you were both proud of.

“Hey, hotstuff, what can I do for you today?” You greeted him.

“Oh, just, the usual. Stab me with a needle over and over for a couple hours,” he winked.

“You’re lucky I’m free today. Next time make an appointment, we’ve been over this.”

“Yes, colonel, I’m sorry, colonel,” he said as he did a military salute for you.

You walked over to the back of the studio, knowing he would follow after you. Taking out a few pencils and your notebook, you sat down and turned towards him.

“So, what are we doing today? Demons? Wizards? Vampires perhaps?” you already had a few ideas in mind for certain designs.

He pulled out a piece of paper from his back pocket, a three eyed troll with an open mouth had been drawn in the middle of it. Eddie laid the drawing on the table in front of you, letting you inspect it for a few seconds.

“So, what do you think?”

“I like it, but I think it’d look even better if we made him drool,” you replied, using a pencil to sketch some saliva dripping down the creature’s chin.

“Yeah? While you’re at it, how do you feel about adding some hair coming out of his ears?” He said as he pulled out another stool and sat beside you.

You brainstormed for a few more minutes before being content with the final result and deciding on a placement. Afterwards, you started with the preparations for the actual tattoo. After being done with the stencil, you sanitized everything and got your machine started.

“Alright, pull down your pants, Munson, and lay on the bed.”

“Damn, take me to dinner first.”

“Since when did you become so high maintenance?” You inquired with a quirk of your eyebrow.

Doing as requested, he laid down and you got to work.

The rest of the session went on as usual. Jokes, flirtatious comments, snarky remarks. At some point you began getting too distracted and decided to turn on the radio instead, needing the “silence” to work properly. Time flew by and before you knew it, your masterpiece was done.

“All done, check it out,” you said, giving his leg one last cleanup.

He sat up, bending over slightly to inspect your work.

“Hm, I think it’s missing something,” Eddie put his fist under his chin, feigning being in deep thought about something.

You stared at him confused, not understanding why he hadn’t brought this up in the earliest stages of the process.

“I think it would look great with your number under it,” he said, snapping his fingers.

You laughed at him, taking off your rubber gloves.

“You’re asking for my number?”

“No, I’m asking you to tattoo your number on me, so don’t take off your gloves, we’re not done.”

You took a moment to contemplate him, confused as to whether he was joking or being serious. It wasn’t necessarily mad coming from him, he’d told you about other things he’d done that had surprised you more than this. But it surely was stupid, something he’d regret the moment after getting it done.

“Eddie, I’m not gonna do that for you.”

“Why not?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

“Because, I can give you my number on a piece of paper if you really want it, you don’t need to carry it with you permanently, dingus.”

“Nope, I know myself, I’m constantly losing shit. This way I can guarantee I’ll have it with me always.”

“Then I’ll write it on your arm, I know you don’t shower anyway, so,” you offered.

He laughed, admitting defeat.

“Fine, but you’re lucky I’m disgusting or I’d fight you harder on this one.” He pulled up his pants, only to offer you his arm which you gladly took and and started to scribble your number down with a nearby pen you grabbed.

Satisfied, he stood up and followed you front.

After ringing him up, you repeated the aftercare instructions you gave him everytime and that you knew for a fact he never followed.

He thanked you and got ready to leave when you stopped him.

“I’m free on Saturday, just so you know.” You figured that if he had taken the first step, it was only fair to show initiative.

“Tell me again when I call you tonight, and I promise next time we see each other I’ll shower just for you.” He smirked.

“I’ll be holding you to that promise, Munson.”

“Please do, you’re a great incentive to improve my hygiene.”

And with that he left the shop, leaving you eager to get home and receive the call he’d promised to give you.

---

A/N: Hope I did your idea justice! If you want to send a request, you can do so here. 

[zorilleerrant]

a @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt

“Ow,” Judge says, convincingly, if a moment too late.

Hephaestion raises an eyebrow as the other man smiles weakly and says, “if I didn’t already know, I’d know now, you’re aware of that, right?”

Judge resists the urge to stare dramatically out the window and shrugs. The shrug is less convincing than the ow, but that’s not something he’s been able to solve so far. “I don’t think most people are paying that close attention.”

“They’re going to if you keep ignoring getting stabbed,” Hephaestion argues. “Trust me. I’ve been doing this longer than you have.”

The moment of indecision expands before him, and Judge wishes going fast would help him decide whether sitting down looks huffy, but if his powers were useful to himself he wouldn’t have them in the first place. “It’s just a needle.”

“Yeah, thinking like that had me grabbing books from three feet away inside a month,” Hephaestion says, and then holds his hands up. “Hey, it’s your secret identity, I’m not telling you how to live your life.”

“You’re constantly telling me how to live my life,” Judge says.

Hephaestion narrows his eyes. “Oh, your superpowers protect you against scurvy now? You want to test that out?”

“I’m not saying that I could –”

“– because I don’t have any kind of healing powers –”

“– if you would just –”

“– sorry for handing you an orange, I guess –”

“Stop leaving needles lying around!” Judge says, holding out the offending needle, bent just slightly out of shape.

Hephaestion mutters at it, distorting it back into shape. “If you’re going to sit at other people’s desks, you need to watch out for stray pins.”

“That’s not an aphorism,” Judge says, eyeing it suspiciously.

“And a good thing, too. If it were you’d probably think it was safe to ignore it,” Hephaestion says, tucking the pin back into his sewing kit. “For all you know, pins are your Achilles heel and that could’ve just killed you.”

“Pins are not my Achilles heel,” Judge says, uncertainly.

Hephaestion glares. “Well. We know that now.”